


If I Bleed, You'll Be The Last To Know

by xxPrettyLittleTimeBombxx



Series: Love Is A Mixtape [3]
Category: Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drunken Confessions, Eventual Fluff, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Mutual Pining, Shirbert, pretty much jut ALL the angst but I promise I'll fix it-- don't worry!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-02-23 03:53:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23405326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxPrettyLittleTimeBombxx/pseuds/xxPrettyLittleTimeBombxx
Summary: "...And I scream for whatever it's worth, I love you-- ain't that the worst thing you ever heard?"ORAn alternate take on 3x08 wherein Gilbert walks a slightly more drunk Anne home from the bonfire party at the ruins. He still tells her about his conversation with Mr. Rose, but since there's no one there to interrupt, Anne gets to say a BIT more than "I'm...pirate!" [part of a series, but can definitely be read as a stand alone!]
Relationships: Gilbert Blythe & Anne Shirley, Gilbert Blythe & Winifred Rose, Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley
Series: Love Is A Mixtape [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1651741
Comments: 74
Kudos: 394





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> FAIR WARNING: This is going to get angsty af before it gets better! (sorry!)
> 
> I've been working on an alternate take to for 3x08 for about a month now and I think I've finally got it to a place where I'm happy enough with it to share with all of you lovely readers.
> 
> It's inspired by two things:  
> \- One, is Taylor Swift's brilliant bridge in 'Cruel Summer', albeit very loosely! (Also the inspiration for the title!)  
> \- Two, is simply that I just couldn't stop thinking about what might have happened if Anne and Gilbert had had more time that night away from the hustle and bustle of their friends. So I imagined a scenario in which I feel as though that could have happened. 
> 
> Enjoy!

_“I’ve been talking you up to my friends at the Sorbonne…”_

_“With the right test scores and financial backing, you could be there come fall…”_

_“If my daughter is happy, then so I am I…”_

_“If you’re awaiting my blessing son, it’s granted…”_

These were the words that had been echoing in Gilbert’s mind ever since he’d left Charlottetown. Even now, as he draws near the ruins, the loud cheers of his school friends do nothing to drown out the memory of what Mr. Rose had said to him just a few hours prior.

Winifred was lovely in every sense of the word. The Sorbonne was his dream— so why was he hesitating? Why couldn’t he say anything in return one way or the other when Mr. Rose had all but held the future Gilbert thought he’d always wanted out for him to reach out and take, no questions asked?

Gilbert had spent the entirety of the train ride back to Avonlea, plus his walk through the forest, convincing himself he had absolutely no idea why he was second-guessing everything.

This was a lie, of course. Because Gilbert knew exactly what it was that was holding him back— or rather, _who_.

And as he rounds the bend, ruins now in sight, it’s as if the universe knows it too. Because there, atop a raised wooden platform just a few feet away from him, stands Anne bathed in the firelight. And his heart lurches as he watches her twirl freely where she stands, arms stretched up toward the sky, glorious red hair billowing in the cool night air— like a fiery angel sent straight from heaven with the sole purpose of coveting his heart.

Gilbert can’t move— can’t breathe, as he watches her like a man parched who can’t satiate the unquenchable thirst no matter how long he stands there drinking in the sight of her. And so he looks on as Diana tugs her down, presses a bottle of moonshine into her hands, waits for his angel of fire to take a good, long drink, before pulling her into a game of red rover…

For all she’d had to drink that night, it’s a miracle that Anne manages to break through the linked arms of Jane and Ruby. Her victory comes with a price though, for the momentum she’s used to break through to freedom causes her to stumble, and she laughs as she tumbles unceremoniously onto the soft earth below.

Ruby and Diana are at her side before Gilbert can make his way over, and Anne holds a hand up as though to assure her friends she’s not done herself any permanent damage.

“Don’t mind me— I’ll be alright once the room stops spinning,” Anne says, lying back onto the floor. “It’s actually quite nice down here— I think I’ll just rest my eyes a bit…”

“The room?! Anne, we’re outside, you silly goose!” Ruby giggles, kneeling down by her side.

“Hmm?” Anne stirs as Ruby gives her shoulder a little shake.

“So we are!” she giggles.

“How much has she had to drink?” Gilbert asks.

“I don’t even know how much _I’ve_ had to drink,” Ruby replies unhelpfully.

“Maybe we should take her home…” offers up Diana, clearly sobering up quick given that the situation seems to demand it.

“What about the Cuthberts? They can’t see her like this— Marilla will have her head.”

“They’ve gone to Nova Scotia to see a specialist about Miss Cuthbert’s eye troubles. They won’t be back until tomorrow,” Diana assures him. “I can walk back with her.”

“No no no!” Anne interjects, shakes her head vigorously. “Don’t stop the celebration on my account— I couldn’t bare it!”

“Stay, Diana— I can take her home— it’s on my way anyway,” Gilbert offers.

“Yes! Gilbert can take me home— Gilbert can…when did you get here?” Anne shoots him a puzzled look as she notes his presence for the first time.

“Just now,” Gilbert holds a hand out to help her up. “Can you stand?"

Anne ignores it, hoisting herself off the floor before making a big show of throwing her arms out. “Ta-da!”

The girls clap as though Anne has just delivered the performance of a lifetime, and when she loses her footing a bit as she curtsies in response to the cheers, Gilbert’s hand shoots out to steady her.

“Okay,” Gilbert chuckles. “I think that’s enough of an encore for tonight— what do you say we get you back to Green Gables?”

He takes advantage of the grip he’s got on her forearm to draw her closer and loop her arm through his so he can start them off down the path toward home.

“Farewell my fair maidens! I’ll miss you all something terrible!” Anne cries out, blowing kisses in the direction of her friends, as Gilbert pulls her away from the raucous gathering. “I shall, of course, miss you most of all, my darling Diana— until we meet again!”

“You…” Anne says once when they find themselves among the trees. “missed a _great_ party!”

“I’ve noticed,” Gilbert says, eyeing heraffectionately. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get here sooner.”

“I am too— s’not the same when you’re not around.”

He turns his head to look at her, a single eyebrow quirking up in response to what she’s just said, loving that the moonshine has done nothing to quell Anne’s penchant for speaking her mind.“Carrots…are you trying to tell me that you miss me when I’m gone?”

“One…you’re not supposed to call me that," Anne retorts as she jostles her shoulder into his (whether by accident, or on purpose, Gilbert will never know…)

“Two…if this is news to you you’re clearly not as smart as everyone thinks you are, Gilbert Blythe— do you think I would have bothered to write while you were off traveling the world if I hadn’t?"

She claps her free hand over her mouth and lets out a gasp. “Oh no— did I say that out loud?!”

“Don't go trying to take it back now,” he goads.

“Ugh! You’re the wooorrrst!”

Gilbert laughs heartily, enjoying the comfortable familiarity of their rapport. It’s almost enough to make him forget he's walking her home because she’s had too much to drink, and not just because he very much enjoys her company. But Anne’s slurred speech and her current inability to walk in a straight line serve as a great reminder of her inebriated state.

“D’you know what else you missed because you were late to the party? All my brilliant jokes!” She says as they continue down the path. “Like, why does it take a pirate so long to learn the alphabet?”

Anne doesn't wait for him to answer before launching straight into the punchline. “Because he spent years at _C_! Get it, Gilbert? _Get it_?”

She laughs uncontrollably at her own joke and Gilbert can't help but join her.

She tells him another, and another, and another until they’ve reached the side entrance of her house.

Anne lets go of his arm to fiddle with the key and unlock the door. She’s not been gone from his side for a second and he already misses her previous closeness.

Gilbert’s not ready to say goodbye, and his heart thumps wildly in his chest at the realization that doesn’t think he’ll ever be ready to say goodbye to Anne Shirley-Cuthbert. He’d have to figure out how to though, if he chose a life with Winifred. And suddenly, Mr. Rose’s words are back, ricochetting around in his head.

It’s Anne’s hands reaching out to grab either side of his face that pulls him away from the convoluted thoughts running through his mind. She cocks her head to the side as she studies his features for a moment before she slides her fingers down and pulls the corners of his mouth up into a forced smile. Gilbert hadn’t even realized he’d been frowning.

“What are you doing?” he laughs, Anne’s antics coaxing a real smile out of him.

“You looked sad…I don’t like it when you’re sad,” she says softly. “Were my pirate jokes that terrible?”

“No,” Gilbert says quietly. “I like your terrible jokes."

“Is it the entrance exam?” Anne asks. “I’m sure you did splendidly.”

“It’s not the exam…it’s…”

There's a clarity in Anne's eyes that hasn't been there the whole time they've been together tonight-- as though her concern for him is working overtime to battle the effects of the alcohol in her bloodstream.And maybe that's what prompts Gilbert to do it-- to ask if he can speak with her for a moment before he heads off in the direction of his house.

Anne’s hands drop from his cheeks and she wastes no time in waving him inside. She gestures for him to sit at the kitchen table before flopping down across from him, pegging him with a serious expression as she waits patiently for him to tell her what's wrong.

And then, before Gilbert can stop himself, the events of his night come pouring out.

“Then her father laid it out on a sliver platter…the Sorbonne, Paris, the money to do it— my future if I want it…permission…to propose,” he explains. “I don’t know what to do.”

“It’s everything you want isn’t it?” Anne says bluntly. “I don’t understand…what’s holding you back?”

“Just…one thing.”

Anne’s breathing heavily now, her chest heaving as she struggles to catch her breath as the true meaning of Gilbert’s words wash over her. She flinches away when he tries to lay a hand on her arm in favor of standingso quickly she has to steady herself on the wall behind her.

“Gilbert, you can’t just _say_ something like that and _expect_ me to…what am I _supposed_ to…and everyone, _everyone_ is…and now _you_ just…and I’m _so, soooo_ — you let me tell you _pirate jokes_ all night for Christs sake!” Anne bursts out. “I can’t…I _can’t_ …”

“Anne...” Gilbert starts before she cuts him off.

“I can’t _do_ this Gilbert— _you_ ….you just show yourself out!” she cries as she stumbles for the stairs.

Gilbert follows despite Anne’s protest, fearing that she might just come toppling down if he doesn’t spot her.

"He doesn't even _get it_ ," he hears her mumble under her breath. "He doesn't even know _how long_ I've...and he doesn't _understand_ why I-- I--"

For a moment Gilbert thinks she doesn’t even realize he’s right behind her, that is until she rounds on him once they’ve both made it up to the landing.

“D’you wanna know what the worst thing is?" Anne asks, words slurred as she pauses a few steps away from him, whirling around so she can face him square on before she continues.

“The _worst_ thing…” Anne starts before pausing. She’s swaying a little on her feet due to her sudden movements, and Gilbert makes to steady her, one hand reaching out to grab her shoulder. She swats him away before he can.

“The worst thing is that I fucking _love_ you.”

Anne pokes him square in the center of his chest when she says it. There’s not much force behind the action, but to Gilbert, it feels as though she may as well have just shot him straight through the heart.

"Did you hear me?" she asks when Gilbert says nothing in return. "I said I fucking _love you_ Gilbert Blythe-- in spite of _everything_ \-- in spite of the fact that I _know_ that I shouldn’t.”

His mouth goes dry at Anne’s declaration. It's all he's ever wanted to hear her say-- but not like this. Not after he's caused her so much distress.

"Why shouldn't you?" he chokes out.

“Because it’s _easier_ if I don’t! Because it’ll ruin _everything!_ Because you have Winifred, and Paris, and the Sorbonne, and it's all _waiting_ for you!”

She draws in a rattled breath before she continues. “Because even though most of me thinks you _should go_ , there’s still a small piece of me that wants to tell you to _pick me_ instead— to _love me_ instead.”

Gilbert can’t think. He can’t breathe. And the more Anne stands there, drunkenly spilling her heart out, the more it feels as though his is shattering…

“Isn’t that the worst thing you’ve ever heard, Gil?” Anne’s voice is a whisper now, her eyes wide with fear. “That there’s a part of me that’s so wickedly selfish, it would have you throw everything else away?”

“What if I want to throw it all away?”

It takes all the strength Gilbert has to let his declaration hang there in the silence between them as he waits for Anne to say something— _anything_ in return.

Desperately, he finds himself hoping that she’ll put him out of his misery and tell him she takes it back— not the ‘I love you,’ but the part about how her love will ruin everything.

He wants to tell her that it would do no such thing— that her love could never do anything but make _everything_ better. And suddenly, Gilbert starts to wonder how he could have ever been stupid enough to convince himself (or Anne for that matter) that there was even a choice to be made here. There was never a choice because it had always, and would always be Anne for him.

He wants to say all of this, but the words get stuck in his throat and suddenly, Anne’s opening her mouth to respond and so, Gilbert stays quiet, thinking that he at least owes her the courtesy of letting her speak first.

“Gilbert, I…”

“Yes?”

“I…I…think I’m going to be sick” is all Anne chokes out before she actually does get sick all over the floor between them.

Gilbert doesn’t think twice before kneeling down next to her, holding her hair back with one hand while the other rubs soothing circles across Anne’s back.

“Go away!— Don’t look!--“ Anne gasps in between retching up the contents of her stomach.

Gilbert does eventually leave her side— but only to fetch a few washcloths for cleaning up, and a cup of water.He helps her wipe her mouth before holding the cup up to her lips, which Anne finally accepts after a few feeble attempts of pushing both the water and Gilbert away.

He figures there’s something to be said for the philosophy of better out than in, but he starts to panic when a choked wail escapes from Anne’s lips.

“What’s wrong— do you need to throw up some more?”

“I’m tired, Gil— I’m just so tired— of _everything_.” she sobs as she slumps against the wall.

His heart breaks at the realization that he's the source of her heartache. Ittakes another moment for Gilbert to realize that despite the tears streaming down her cheeks, the alcohol has now caused Anne to doze off.

“I’m sorry…I messed this up so bad, didn’t I?” he whispers, reaching out to gently wipe the tear stains from her face.

Anne stirs, but the steady rise and fall of her chest clues Gilbert into the fact that she really has fallen asleep right there on the floor of the hallway. And so he does the only logical thing he can think of and picks her up, one arm under the bend of her knees, the other holding her upper body close to his chest.

He lays her gently on the bed when they reach her room, carefully removing both of her boots before pulling the blankets up over her and taking a seat at her side. He can’t help himself from brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face, frowning at the way Anne’s brows furrow when she feels his fingertips graze against her forehead.

She doesn’t wake, but a mumbled string of words falling from her lips has Gilbert feeling as though all the air has been sucked straight out of his lungs.

“Don’t…Gil….marry…me…”

It’s the last thing she says before the only sound left in the room is that of her steady breathing. The ache he first felt when she told him she loved him is back, piercing his chest with such fervor, Gilbert finds himself rubbing at the spot right over where his heart lies under his ribcage.

"You've really put your foot in it now, Blythe." He mutters to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose.

He doesn't know how yet, but he's going to set things right with Anne if it's the last thing he does. He'll start with heading straight over to Charlottetown at first light to tell Winifred that he can't marry her-- not when his heart already belongs to someone else.

Before he leaves, Gilbert steals down to the Cuthbert’s kitchen to write Anne a letter— does his best to let the contents of his heart seep into the ink and pour out onto the blank page before him.When he’s done, he folds it up and clips it to the pen she’d let him borrow just a few days prior before quietly bounding back upstairs to place both pen and note on her nightstand.

He can only hope it’ll be enough for now…


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, I know I said this was going to be the last chapter BUT...it just made more sense to spread the second half over two chapters! (don't hate me!)
> 
> Also, extra special shoutout to delphinelacroix who was kind enough to offer some feedback while I was stuck in the brainstorming phase! Y'all should go read her latest, "Candy Hearts," and give it some love after you're done here!

For as long as she can remember, Anne has been under the impression that there are few things better in this wondrous world than waking up to a bright and sunny day.

She’s never found herself wishing harder for a gloomy morning more than she does today though, as she lies in bed, head feeling as though it’s about to split in two as the first rays of daylight painfully pierce her closed eyelids.

It brings to mind a memory of Diana telling her once that the worst part of accidentally indulging in so much currant wine the first time she’d ever come around to Green Gables for tea, was in fact, how sick she’d felt the next morning. Anne was sure that Diana had suffered a great deal all those years back, but as she struggles to block the sunlight from her eyes, she also can’t help but feel as though her best bosom friend might have downplayed the effects of drinking too much alcohol just a smidge.

“No…more…moonshine… _ever_ …” Anne grumbles as she dares to crack her eyes open slightly.

She spies a glass of water sitting on her nightstand and makes to reach for it all while moving as little as possible. She misses the glass by a mile as a result of being too stubborn to open her eyes properly, but the side of her hand connects with something solid and cylindrical that clatters to the floor in the process.

The unexpected object is enough to sway Anne into blinking her eyes open (for real this time) and when she does, she spies two things laying on the hardwood floor an arms length away from her bed: one, is her trusty pen of possibility, the other is a letter with her name scrawled across the front.

A letter with her name scrawled across the front in _Gilbert_ ’s unmistakably tidy penmanship.

It’s the recollection that _Gilbert_ was the last to be in possession of her favorite writing implement, coupled with the sight of _her_ name in _his_ handwriting that breaks the dam. And suddenly, an onslaught of memories from the night before come rushing to the forefront of her mind.

_Hazy images of dancing around the fire…of sipping from a bottle that never seemed to empty no matter how many times any of her friends pressed it into her hands… images of uncontrollable giggling— of joyous celebration…of Gilbert materializing before her very eyes as if by magic…._

There are more vivid memories too…

_Flashes of Gilbert walking her home from the ruins…of Gilbert, looking forlorn in a way that makes Anne’s heart ache-- despite all his efforts to laugh along at all of her stupid jokes...of Anne inviting Gilbert in…of Gilbert unburdening his conversation with Mr. Rose about Winifred, and Paris, and the Sorbonne, unto her…of Anne confessing her love for him in a moment of passionate rage--_

She buries her face in her hands, heat rushing to her cheeks, shameful tears stinging at the corners of her eyes, as she recalls the way she all but screamed her declaration at Gilbert the night before.

Gilbert’s letter is still there when she lifts her head, mocking her from where it lays on the hardwood floor, and the mere sight of it is enough to cause a pang of dread to settle in the pit of her stomach as her heart beats away like a drum in her chest.

Half of her is desperate to know what it is that was so important Gilbert felt the need to set it in pen, implying a semblance of permanence that the spoken word just couldn’t quite measure up to.

The other half of her fearfully ruminates over the possibility that perhaps, Gilbert felt compelled to lay whatever it was out in writing because he felt as though this was something he _couldn’t_ bring himself to tell her face to face.

It’s the latter that makes Anne realize she’s nowhere near close to mustering up the courage she needs to open Gilbert’s letter and find out one way or the other.

She puts off the letter as long as she can, picking it up off the floor and setting it on her dresser before she starts going through the motions of getting ready for the day. Anne takes her time as she washes up, decidedly ignoring the slight nausea she feels whenever she moves too suddenly as she gets dressed, and meticulously rids her wild red hair of all its tangles. She sneaks glances at the top of her dresser every so often and every time she does, her name printed out by Gilbert’s hand stares back at her and causes her heart to start thumping away all over again.

It’s only when she can’t think of another reason to put off reading it any longer that Anne brings herself to pick up the letter again. Her fingers tremble as she carefully unfolds the cream colored parchment, but she’s reached a point where her curiosity is finally starting to outweigh the fear of whatever it is that lies within. And so, with bated breath, Anne begins to read…

> _Dear Anne,_
> 
> _I hope you will find it in your heart to forgive my missteps from last night-- if not now, then perhaps one day._
> 
> _It’s not exactly how I ever imagined I might someday confess my feelings for you. But since my spoken words have not done justice to convey what I know to be true with every fiber of my being, I feel I must unburden my heart to you now in a way that leaves no room for confusion or error._
> 
> _You are the fond object of my affection and my desire. You, and you alone are the keeper of the key to my heart._
> 
> _Please, don’t be alarmed. Regardless of what you said last night, I don’t expect your favor if you do not truly wish to give it. But I can’t in good conscience not reveal myself._
> 
> _I’m not engaged. Nor will I be. Unless it’s to you, Anne. My Anne with an E. It always has been, and always will be, you._
> 
> _With love,_
> 
> _Gilbert_

Anne’s hands shake as she clutches the letter tightly. She reads it over once, twice, three times before letting out a breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding. The tightness in her chest is back-- the same one she felt last night when Gilbert had held her gaze and turned her world upside down with three small words. 

_Just...one thing…_

Anne wonders if she’ll be haunted by those words until her last dying day. She wonders if Gilbert, in turn, will find himself forever haunted by the words, she herself had fired back at him once the world had stopped spinning long enough for her to form coherent sentences.

_The worst thing is that I fucking love you._

She’d never meant to say it. Not like that.

Not because it wasn’t true, but because after reading Gilbert’s words over, Anne's not so sure loving Gilbert the way she desperately wants to would be the worst thing in the world anymore. And admitting that to herself is exhilarating, and terrifying, and confusing all at once. Because for as much as Anne was sure she loved Gilbert in her own way, she never expected him to love her back— he wasn’t ever _supposed_ to love her back. More importantly, she still wasn’t sure she _wanted_ him to love her back.

It would, just as she had more or less told him the night before, be far easier if one of them didn’t feel the same way.

Anne thinks maybe talking it through aloud might help, but talking to herself doesn’tseem as productive as talking to another living, breathing being. So she makes her way down to the barn, hoping to seek some sort of comfort in Butterscotch.

Butterscotch is a fantastic listener, and the young colt nuzzling against her hand serves as a balm to soothe Anne’s aching heart as she relays the events of the night before.

As she speaks, Anne finds herself coming to the realization that while she can admit that there’s a part of her that’s still very much in love with Gilbert Blythe, there’s another part of her that’s becoming increasingly more irritated over the fact that Gilbert felt as though last night was the best time to try and confess his feelings.

And then there’s the matter of his letter.

Anne never thought she’d be one to turn her nose up at such a romantical declaration preserved on pen and paper, but the more she stews over it, the more she finds herself wishing Gilbert could have told her all of this in person himself— if not last night, then at least sometime this morning.

“You’ll always be the best listener, Butterscotch,” Anne sniffs as she strokes the horse’s golden mane. “I just wish sometimes you could talk back…”

Suddenly, it dawns on Anne that she _does_ know someone well equipped to dish out advice— someone who just so happens to be staying right down the road. And without a moment’s hesitation, she hops off the the stable gate and runs to the Barry’s house as fast as her legs can carry her.

The maid who opens the door gives Anne a peculiar look as the redhead manages to huff and puff out that she’d like to speak with Miss Josephine Barry if she hasn’t already gone back to Charlottetown, and Anne breaths a sigh of when she sees Aunt Josephine’s tall, striking figure emerge from the parlor.

Aunt Josephine leads Anne out to the Barry’s garden and as they walk, Anne recounts the events of the night before to her fellow kindred spirit. She finishes as the reach a bench toward the back of the Barry’s property. Once they’re seated, Anne finally hands Aunt Josephine the letter Gilbert wrote her— the last piece of the puzzle in some ways— and waits nervously for the older woman to finish reading so she can weigh in with her thoughts.

“Well, this is some declaration indeed, Anne-girl,” Aunt Josephine says as she hands the letter back to Anne. “And do you, in turn, love this Gilbert Blythe fellow?”

“Yes, but…”

“But what?”

“It can’t be that simple…” Anne muses.

“ _Can’t_ it?” Aunt Josephine asks in turn. “Love can be complicated, but that doesn’t mean we have to make it so. Sometimes it’s just enough to know that you love someone as much as they love you. In my opinion, you can’t ask for a love more pure than that.”

Anne says nothing as she turns Aunt Josephine’s words over in her head, fiddling nervously with Gilbert’s letter, which she has yet to tuck away in the pocket of her dress.

“Might I ask,” Aunt Josephine starts gently. “What it is that’s causing you to hesitate?”

Anne can’t help the way her voice cracks as she answers, “I don’t want to be the thing that holds him back— I don’t want to be the person who stands in the way of Gilbert and his dreams.”

“Well, that’s very noble of you, Anne, but I wonder…would _Gilbert_ ever be one to stand in the way of _your_ dreams?”

It’s by far the easiest question Aunt Josephine has asked her all afternoon, and one Anne doesn’t hesitate to answer. “No, he—“

Anne cuts herself short as she thinks of all the times Gilbert has stood by her side, supporting her without question. Encouraging her from the get-go, despite how long it took for her to warm to him. In everything from her dramatic poetry readings that first week of school, all the way to her most recent declaration at Miss Stacy’s house in which Anne found herself boldly vowing to forever be a relentless thorn in the side of those who refuse to amend the status quo.

For as long as Anne has known him, Gilbert has never once questioned her passions, has never made her feel as though her dreams were frivolous, unattainable, or unworthy of chasing— no matter what anyone else thought or had to say on the matter…

“Gilbert would never stand in the way of what I wanted to achieve,” Anne finally continues. “He’d only ever do anything he could to help me get there.”

“So if Gilbert can stand by your side and support you— no matter where your dreams take you…” the older woman prompts.

“Then…there’s no reason I can’t do the same,” Anne responds dazedly.

“Equal partners— in life, as in love. That’s hard to come by, Anne-girl,” says Aunt Josephine. “So if you feel as though that's what you've found, I’d advise you to hold on tight and never let go.”

Anne can’t help herself from flinging her arms around Aunt Josephine’s neck then, hugging the older woman so fiercely, it draws a hearty chuckle from her throat. “I take it my advice proved helpful after all?” 

“Yes,” Anne says as she pulls back.

“Go. Find him. Tell him how you feel. Life’s too short to live it with a bitter heart— or to let words go left unsaid,” says Aunt Josephine through a wistful smile. “I should know— I’ve lived enough of it myself.”

“I will, Aunt Josephine— I’ll go to him right now,” Anne promises earnestly, giving her dear kindred spirit's hand a squeeze before heading straight for the Blythe-Lacroix property.

As she walks, Anne thinks of a dozen different ways she can put her feelings into words. Finding the right words, however, proves to be a bit trickier than Anne initially anticipates it will— something she thinks to be oddly humorous given that she knows oh, so many scrumptious words. But no matter which way she strings them together in her head, nothing sounds quite right. Nothing seems quite worthy or momentous enough for what she’d like to convey the moment she comes face to face with Gilbert.

She finds herself standing at his front door long before she feels as though she’s had enough time to get the words dancing around in her brain to stand still. It doesn’t matter either way though, because after she knocks, it’s not Gilbert who opens the door, but Bash.

“Why, if it isn’t Queen Anne herself— what a surprise!” Bash says, bouncing a giggling Delphine on his hip.

Anne greets father and daughter in turn, holding her index finger out for Delly to reach out and grip in her small hand.

“She’s getting so big and strong!” Anne coos.

“That she is,” Bash says proudly.

“Is Gilbert here?”

“‘Fraid not— Blythe took off rather early this morning.”

“Oh…” Anne replies, doing a poor job of masking her disappointment. “Do you have any idea when he might be back? It’s kind of important.”

Bash shakes his head regretfully, taking in the way Anne’s face falls at his response. “You’re welcome to come in and wait a while if you’d like.”

“Only if it’s not too much trouble,” Anne replies weakly.

Bash moves to the side, opening the door wider to let her pass through. Anne barely has one foot over the threshold before she pauses, thinking better of it.

“Actually…would it be alright if I took a walk out in the orchards while I wait instead?” Anne asks. “It’s just such a nice day, and I wouldn’t mind a bit more fresh air.”

“Of course!” Bash says readily, reaching blindly behind himself to procure a cloth satchel which he holds out to Anne. “Feel free to pick a few apples while you’re out there— I’m sure Marilla wouldn’t mind if you brought some home with you.”

“Thanks, Bash,” Anne smiles, taking the proffered bag before settling off toward the orchard in the distance.

And as Anne finds comfort among the rows upon rows of apple trees, she thinks to herself that perhaps it’s better that Gilbert wasn’t home after all— at least now, she’ll have more time to mull over what it is she’d like to say when she finally sees him again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't you all just love it when Anne FINALLY gets there? It's just so satisfying!
> 
> In any case, I hope this unexpected middle chapter serves as a nice little treat to tide you over until I finish up the third and final chapter (for real this time, y'all-- it's the LAST CHAPTER. I promise!)
> 
> I'm so excited for you all to read it whenever it's up, by the way-- I've had most if it written for ages and I CAN'T WAIT to share it!
> 
> Until then, thank you so much in advance if you are kind enough to leave kudos or comments-- I can't put into words how much it means, or how much it motivates me to keep going even when I'm suffering from writer's block!
> 
> And as always, if you wanna come hang out/keep up with me between uploads, you can find me on Tumblr @ xxprettylittletimebombxx
> 
> If you're reading this, I hope you are staying safe and healthy and that you do something that brings you joy today!
> 
> Sending you all much love! <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in two days-- who the heck have I turned into?! 
> 
> In all seriousness, Please enjoy the final installment of this story, and I'll see y'all on the other side with a few more thoughts!
> 
> (Also, extra special shoutout once more to delphinelacroix who was kind enough to offer some feedback while I was stuck in the brainstorming phase!)

Winifred had been understandably upset by the turn of events— something Gilbert found himself bracing for from the moment he set out for Charlottetown early that morning, all the way up until he’d sat down with her in her parent’s drawing room and revealed that he couldn’t in good conscience go forth with proposing to her. Not when his heart already belonged to someone else.

What Gilbert hadn’t expected was for Winifred to suss out the person responsible for his change of heart…

“It’s Anne, isn’t it?” she asks after regaining her composure.

Gilbert’s brows shoot up toward his hairline at her remark. In truth, he’d had every intention of keeping Anne’s name out of the conversation entirely. But once Winifred herself had spoken her name aloud, Gilbert found that he couldn’t bring himself to deny that it was true.

“How did you…?”

“Gilbert, I’m not blind. I saw the way you looked at her at the fair,”she says through a watery laugh. “I _knew_ you were…but I had _hoped_ that…well, that maybe you might one day look at _me_ that way-- like...like I'd gone and hung the moon and all the stars up in the sky."

“Winifred, I’m so sorry. I never meant to lead you on. I never meant to hurt you,” Gilbert reiterates— an echo of the words he’d spoken toward the beginning of their conversation.

“I hope you know that I did care for you— I _do_ care for you— just not…”

His sentence trails off, but Winfred is quick to pick it up. “I know, Gilbert. I won’t lie to you. I’m disappointed…and a little embarrassed, but…but you _should_ marry for love— if you’re lucky enough to come across it in life.”

“I’m not even sure if she’ll have me after all of this— after what I’ve put her through— put the both of you through,” he confesses before he can stop himself.

Winifred raises a single, delicately gloved hand and Gilbert watches as it inches toward his forearm. She hesitates at the last moment, as though thinking better of it, and instead lets her hand fall back onto her lap. A sense of relief washes over Gilbert when she doesn’t go through with trying to comfort him— he’s not sure he’d be able to bare it if she’d tried. Especially not right now when he feels as though he’s the least deserving of her kindness.

“She will,” Winifred says firmly.

“How do you know?” he whispers back.

“Because Anne loves you too,” she says through a sad smile. “The way you look at her? It’s how she looks at _you_ when you’re not looking back.”

“I hope you find that someday Winifred,” Gilbert says meaningfully. “You deserve to be with someone who looks at you as though you're their whole world.”

Winifred says nothing in return but she tucks her chin, eyes downcast toward the hands that rest in her lap, and Gilbert looks away, offering her a small semblance of privacy as she collects herself.

When she finally does speak, it’s in a clipped and clinical tone— one that Gilbert certainly can’t begrudge her for.

He listens intently as she explains she still plans to leave for Paris in two weeks as originally intended, protesting only when Winifred states that she’d prefer he not be around when she tells her mother and father that Gilbert won’t be proposing. She’s quick to cut him off when he does though. And there’s a chill in her voice as she reminds him that she’s the one being put out, so the least he can do is let her deal with this on her own terms.

It’s later than Gilbert anticipates when he finally gets on the train back to Avonlea, leaving Charlottetown behind with a heart that’s feeling much lighter than it’s felt over the course of the past twenty-four hours.

He’s the first one off when the train pulls in to the Bright River station and Gilbert wastes no time in retrieving his horse from the nearby stables, making quick work of paying the stable hand before riding off post-haste to Green Gables.

A sense of relief washes over him when he finally spots the distinct facade of the Cuthbert’s residence up ahead in the distance, followed quickly by a swarm of butterflies that infiltrate his stomach. He’s still not sure what Anne will say. He’s not even sure if she bothered read the letter he’d poured his heart into the night before…he thinks he wouldn’t blame her if she’d instead opted to rip the letter up into a thousand tiny pieces without a second thought.

Gilbert can’t bring himself to harp on the _what-if_ ’s for long though— not when Anne is just within reach.

And it’s the realization that he’ll soon be seeing her in the flesh again— this time without any obstacles in the way, and with all of his feelings laid bare between them— that has Gilbert’s heart maddeningly fluttering away in his chest as he dismounts his trusty steed and makes to tie him up near the Cuthbert’s barn.

It’s only when he comes around to the other side of his horse that he realizes he’s got company.

“What are _you_ doing here?” Jerry asks, arms crossed defensively over his chest.

“Hello to you too, Jerry,” Gilbert replies, confused as to why the Cuthbert’s usually jovial farmhand suddenly looks like he might, at any moment, thwack Gilbert over the head with the rake he’s holding.

“I just came to see Anne…” he adds hesitantly.

Jerry mutters a few words in French that Gilbert doesn’t understand before he switches back to English.

“Some nerve you have coming here— _especially_ after what you did to her.”

The way Jerry’s acting toward him now has Gilbert recalling a story Bash once told him back when they were new friends shoveling coal on the Primrose— a tale of how hard he once had to work to win the approval of a girl’s older brother back in Trinidad, just so he could earn the right to ask the the girl in question if she might fancy taking a stroll around the center of town with him.

_“Consider yourself lucky, Blythe,”_ Bash had teased as he elbowed him in the ribs. _“At least your_ _Anne doesn’t have any brothers you’ve got to get past before you can get to her!”_

Anne and Jerry might not have been related by blood, but Gilbert knows better than anyone that sharing a bloodline wasn't exclusively needed to form a familial bond. So perhaps he shouldn’t have been all that surprised that Jerry was currently doing a fantastic job of playing the part of a protective older brother.

“Anne…told you?” Gilbert asks, stomach knotting, brow furrowing.

A pang of dread seeps into his heart. He’d spent all of last night and all of today desperately clinging to the hope that there might still be a chance…but if Anne was as upset as Jerry was implying…

“ _Non_ , not exactly,” Jerry concedes, pulling Gilbert from his spiraling thoughts. “I just…overheard her talking to Butterscotch this morning— it’s not a very big barn, and Anne can be very loud when she’s passionate about something.”

“She was…talking to a _horse._ About _me_?” Gilbert asks, voice tinged in befuddlement.

“It’s Anne,” Jerry says with a shrug, as though Gilbert should know better than to question anything Anne _ever_ does, no matter how peculiar.

“Look, Jerry. I’m not sure what you overheard but I _am_ sorry-- believe me when I say there’s no one who hates me more than I hate myself right now,” Gilbert says earnestly. “But I love her, and I _need_ to make this right. If only for her sake. Anne deserves that much at least.”

Jerry holds Gilbert’s gaze with a steely stare of his own, one that Gilbert doesn’t dare back down from— not even after he starts to feel a bit uncomfortable under the scrutiny.

“ _Vous l’aimez?_ You love her?”

“Yes. I love her,” Gilbert says solemnly. “I’ll only _ever_ love _her_.”

Jerry drops the defensive stance he’s been holding ever since Gilbert arrived, and Gilbert, in turn, feels his own body relax. He can’t, however, help the way his features tug into a frown when Jerry tells him that Anne isn’t actually home at the moment.

“I wish I could tell you where she’s gone,” Jerry says apologetically. “Wherever Anne _was_ going, she seemed to be in a hurry to get there.”

“It’s alright Jerry— thanks anyway,” Gilbert replies as he unties his horse and prepares to hop back on. “If you _do_ happen to see her…could— could you tell her that I stopped by, and that I’ll try again later?”

“ _Oui_.”

“Oh, and Gilbert?” Jerry adds, just as he’s got one foot in the stirrup. The other boy waits until he looks over before he continues. “If you hurt her—”

“I won’t— not ever again,” he finds himself promising before Jerry can even finish his sentence.

“But _if_ you do…”

“If I do, you have my permission to do your worst— I won’t even put up a fight,” Gilbert vows.

Jerrynods his head in approval as an impish grin blooms over his face.“We both know that it’s Anne who would, as you say, ‘do her worst.'"

Gilbert laughs in agreement, knowing Jerry's warning to be true. He thanks him for his time, before bidding Jerry farewell as he sets off in the direction of his own home.

As he nears the gate at the edge of Green Gables, he hears Jerry call out an enthusiastic “ _bonne chance!_ ” to him from where he’s already working away once more among the crops, and Gilbert smiles, thoroughly appreciative of the well wishes.

He knows Anne would hate the idea of any potential suitor feeling as though they had to gain anyone’s blessing— least of all a _man’s_ blessing— before asking her to court. At the same time, Gilbert can’t help but feel a bit pleased over the fact that he’s earned Jerry’s approval. More than anything, his heart swells (as it tends to do) whenever he’s reminded of the fact that Anne has people like Jerry in her life who love her so, they’d do anything to ensure her well-being.

The sun is hanging low in the sky by the time Gilbert finally reaches the edge of the Blythe-Lacroix property, and it bathes the expanse of land before him in a golden light. He’s always thought the orchard looked particularly breathtaking in the golden hour, and Gilbert gives himself purchase to pause and marvel at how the afternoon glow makes the rich browns and deep greens of the apple trees seem all the more vibrant.

It’s a flash of red, seeping through the earth tones like a fiery flame that finds Gilbert rubbing at his eyes and feeling like he must be imagining things. As though his desperation to see Anne again has prompted his mind to start playing tricks on him by conjuring up bits and pieces of her in the world around him.

When he spots the same flash of red again though, it seems too coincidental for it to be but a mere mirage. He ties his horse up to a nearby fence and treks on foot toward where he can still make out that same glorious burst of red peeking through the leaves.

Picking apples in his orchard is the last place he thought he’d ever find Anne. That’s exactly where she is though, and Gilbert looks his fill as he watches her stretch up to pluck a ripe apple from the branches up above. When she does, the light of the golden hour catches in her hair, lights it up into a thousand different shades of burnt orange and crimson. It’s not unlike the way she looked just the night before when Gilbert had come across her twirling in the firelight. Once again he finds himself feeling breathless at Anne’s expense, hardly able to wrap his head around the fact that he’s lucky enough to exist in the same _world_ , at the same _time_ , in the same _place_ as she does.

He doesn’t even realized he’d been slowly moving toward her— enchanted like a sailor to a siren’s call— not until a twig snaps under the weight of his boot, startling him out of his trance-like state, while simultaneously cluing Anne in to his presence.

Anne stares at him for a moment when she sees him, frozen for a second on the tips of her toes, one hand wrapped around another large apple hanging just above her head. She plucks it from the branches before planting her feet back on the ground and turning to face him full-on.

She takes a step toward him and Gilbert mirrors her action, heart racing as she pegs him with an unreadable expression. He's got no time to think on it though because suddenly Anne is hurling the apple she’s just picked straight at him. 

Gilbert dodges it, staring as the fruit hits the ground and rolls past him before looking back up at Anne, eyes wide. And that’s when he sees it— the heat simmering beneath her icy grey-blue stare.

“ _THAT_ is for carelessly dumping all that information about Paris,AND the Sorbonne, _AND_ Winifred on me when you _knew_ I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to receive it!”

Gilbert opens his mouth to apologize. He doesn’t get the chance though because Anne has already reached back into the satchel she’s got looped around one arm to procure another apple. She hurls that one right at him too, missing again— but just barely.

“ _THAT_ is for unburdening your heart in a note and then just up and disappearing without telling _ANYONE_ when you’d be back, or _how long_ you’d be gone!”

She throws a third apple at him then, and this one hits Gilbert square in the head— fittingly, quite close to where Anne once smacked him with her slate on the first day they’d met. 

“And _THAT_ one is for...well...I’m not quite sure— but I’m _sure_ you deserved it!”

“I definitely deserved it,” Gilbert winces as he rubs at the tender spot on his head. 

He flinches when he sees Anne reach back toward the bag, thinking she’s not done using him for target practice just yet. She bypasses in favor of slipping her hand into her pocket before procuring a folded up piece of paper with her name scrawled across the front in his penmanship. 

She lets the bag of apples fall to the floor at her side before she holds up his letter. “Did you mean what you wrote in here? Really mean it?”

“Every word,” Gilbert says ardently. 

“ _Anne_...Anne, I’m so sorry. I’ve been so stupid, and so foolish. And I’ll understand if you need time or space. I’ll give it to you if that’s what you want— I’d give you anything you ask me to— so long as you promise you’ll let me try and make it up to you someday,” Gilbert continues. “ _Please_ …just promise me you’ll give me the chance to show you I’m worthy enough to be on the receiving end of your affection.”

“Time…space…it’s what I _should_ want-- it’s what I _should_ make you give me…” Anne whispers as she takes a step closer. And another. And then another, until she's standing right in front of him. 

“The thing is, Gilbert…I’ve been thinking while you’ve been away all day…” she reaches up to touch the spot where her apple hit him, fingers gently probing over the small bump that's already starting to form against his scalp.

“You have?” he asks, faintly— in part due to her intoxicatingly close proximity, and in part due to the fact that he’s still got no idea where she’s going with this. No idea whether this is the part where she’ll crush his heart, or make it feel as though it’s in danger of flying straight out of his chest.

“I have,” she continues. “And I came to the conclusion that I’m sick and tired of depriving myself of what I _actually_ want…it seems silly, really. That I should convince myself I’d be fine with settling in love, when I have no intentions of settling in other aspects of life.”

Anne’s words offer Gilbert a glimmer of hope to grasp on to. He thinks he understands, but miscommunication is what got them into this mess in the first place, and it’s taught him that it doesn’t do either of them any good to live off of assumptions. He needs to hear her say it again now that she’s sober— to spell it out for him in a way that leaves no room for confusion.

“I love you, Anne. With all of my heart— with all that I am, and I can only hope…” Gilbert can hear the desperation in his own voice when he speaks, wonders if Anne can hear it too, tries not to harp on it either way as he swallows thickly and pushes on-- posing the one question he’s been longing to hear her answer.

“I have to ask— just to be sure-- do you _truly_ have feelings for me?"

"Didn't you hear what I said?" she asks, a small smile beginning to bloom across her face when it dawns on her that she's repeating the same words the alcohol pulled from her lips the night before.

"I said I _love_ you, Gilbert Blythe— in spite of everything, I still love _you_ ,” Anne continues as she slides her other hand up his arm and onto his shoulder. “And maybe I'm still a little bit mad at you...but I figured you can start making it up to me tomorrow…”

He stays stock still as Anne rises up on her toes, her mouth so close to his he can feel her breath fan across his lips as she says her next words. “I think we’ve both suffered enough heartache for today though, don't you?" 

Gilbert lost track of how many hours he’s spent reading about the human brain and the central nervous system long ago. He thought he understood, but no amount of time spent studying medical texts could have possibly prepared him for the way his brain short circuits the moment Anne’s lips finally touch his— or for the way that his entire body thrums with indescribable energy when she softly trails the hand in his hair down his jaw before using it to cup the back of his neck. It’s even better when he finally regains control of his limbs and wraps his arms tightly around her waist and pulls hercloser, mouth parting against hers as he kisses her back with all the years worth of love he's been keeping tightly bottled up inside for far too long.

Tomorrow, he’ll do as she says and start making it up to her. Tomorrow will mark the start of a lifetime he’ll spend at her side, doing everything in his power to ensure _his_ Anne with an E never questions the undying love he has for her ever again-- marveling every day over how lucky he is that out of anyone Anne Shirley-Cuthbert could have chosen to love, she chose _him_.

Today though, Gilbert wants nothing more than to stay just as they are, tucked away among his father's apple trees with Anne’s fingers tangled in his hair as he kisses her senseless for as long as she’ll allow him to-- wrapped up in the knowledge that, by some miracle, Anne loves him just as much as he loves her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all don't even know how long I've been DYING to write a kissing scene from Gilbert's perspective-- he's so head over heels for Anne I can't imagine him *not* swooning just a little!
> 
> There was a good stretch there where I was convinced I would NEVER finish this because the words just weren't coming, so it feels pretty great to be able to share the final chapter with all of you who are reading!
> 
> Hopefully it serves as a satisfying conclusion (final chapters are always my biggest fear when going into a multi-chapter fic!)-- please let me know what you thought in the comments!
> 
> And speaking of comments, as always thank you so much if you are kind enough to leave those and/or kudos! <3
> 
> In between uploads you can find me over on Tumblr @ xxprettylittletimebombxx !

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't think I'd be back with anything new to share for a while, but it turns out being under quarantine has left me with more time to write than I thought it would!
> 
> Does anyone else feel weird about making any of the AWAE characters swear in canon compliant pieces? I went back and forth for the longest time about whether or not I wanted to omit the expletives, but I ended up keeping them because it felt right in the moment.
> 
> When I first started writing this, I thought about leaving it off here. It's bittersweet at best, but there's something kind of nice about that-- especially since we all know Anne and Gilbert are endgame anyway. 
> 
> But, like...obviously I can't help myself so don't worry-- happy ending coming at you in the second and final chapter! 
> 
> Until then, would love to hear what y'all think so far so thank you in advance if you're kind enough to leave comments or kudos! Alternatively, in between uploads you can find me on Tumblr at xxprettylittletimebombxx if that's of interest!
> 
> Sending you all much love! <3


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